


Snowbound at the Black Sail

by RobinsonsWereHere



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Feelings, Found Family, I will not apologize for how tropey this is, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Lesbian Character, Oops, Snowed In, also I tried to write a b plot but i dont think i succeeded, holiday fluff, this fic is just a lesbian hallmark movie, very cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: Dr. Trixie Franklin is only supposed to be in Poplar for one night, while she speaks at the opening of the Nonnatus Maternity Hospital.Valerie Dyer has lived in Poplar for her entire life, and has no plan to leave anytime soon. She's perfectly happy at the family pub.In just one night, a ruthless snowstorm changes everyone's plans and brings about a chance meeting that will change everything for both of them.
Relationships: Barbara Gilbert/Tom Hereward, Delia Busby/Patsy Mount, Lucille Anderson & Valerie Dyer, Lucille Anderson/Cyril Robinson, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Valerie Dyer & Patsy Mount, Valerie Dyer/Trixie Franklin
Comments: 46
Kudos: 64





	1. Let it Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first big holiday fic! This will update every Monday and Friday, with the final chapter on Xmas day. I poured my heart and soul into this and got it done in under three weeks, and I hope you all will enjoy this little holiday AU as much as I did.

When Dr. Trixie Franklin had entered the new Nonnatus Maternity Home exactly three hours and twenty-five minutes earlier, the sky had been just past dusk, the clouds providing pretty little snow flurries.

Now, at eight pm on the dot, the sky is fully dark and the snow is so thick that the crowded city buildings around her are naught but vague shadows. She’s standing in several inches of the stuff, too.

“Wonderful,” she mutters. The snow is almost painfully cold on her feet, quickly permeating her stockings. She wouldn’t have worn heels if she’d known there would be a blizzard.

Well, she probably would have. But less expensive ones, at least.

She sets off for the bus stop, cursing her decision to utilize public transport. A rental car had seemed a needless expense for a two-night trip; one good thing about inner city events is that it’s fairly easy to get where you’re going.

She’s standing at the bus stop for fewer than three minutes before she’s joined by a middle-aged woman she recognizes from the hospital opening. She remembers the name quickly-- Evangelina, one of the nurses who had been almost as instrumental in the project as the Turners themselves.

“You’re not gonna catch a bus in this,” Evangelina says brusquely. She looks Trixie up and down, clearly unimpressed by her fur coat and sleek evening dress. “And none of those bloody apps will send anyone out, either. I don’t suppose you’re staying somewhere within walking distance of here.”

Trixie smiles politely. “I’m at the Marriott W.”

Evangelina actually laughs. “Good luck to you, then. I’m off to find my car… thank heavens I paid for the garage instead of leaving it on the street.”

After another few minutes, Trixie sets her jaw, straightens her spine, and marches off through the snow. She doesn’t really know where she’s going, but she’s not going to wait for a nonexistent bus.

In this weather, though…

She doesn’t need her many years of med school to tell her that staying out in this will not end well, fur coat or no. She groans aloud and decides she needs to find the first warm, open place. Then, with wifi and protection from the elements, she can make a plan.

\---

Valerie Dyer can barely hear the ringing landline over the noise of the crowded pub, but Aunt Flo certainly can’t, not with her hearing going like it is. So she elbows past Hilda, who’s trying to tell a pair of university blokes that they’re being cut off, and grabs the phone herself.

“Black Sail, this is Val.”

_”Valerie! Just the woman. It’s Delia.”_

“Thank you for clarifying, the Welsh accent didn’t give it away,” she snarks. Lester Watts, two pints in already, tries to flag her down. She flips him the bird.

_”You and Patsy should start a sarcasm club,”_ Delia teases. _”Anyway, Patsy and I had really nice dinner plans for tonight, a fancy restaurant and everything, it was going to be quite romantic and festive, really. But the place closed early because of the snow, and now Patsy wants to come there, although honestly, she might’ve wanted that from the beginning. We’re on our way over now and I know you don’t normally do reservations or anything… but I was hoping you might save us a corner table and find some mistletoe?”_

Only her fondness for Patsy and Delia both keeps Valerie from laughing aloud. “Deels. We’re a hole in the wall. We don’t have _mistletoe.”_ She sighs. “But I’ll get you the table for two by the fireplace.”

_”Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you one, Valerie.”_ Delia keeps talking, but Val’s attention has been taken by another customer.

A blonde in a ridiculous fur coat and entirely insensible heels enters the pub, looking around at the crowded state. She makes her way to the bar, her expression somewhere between discomfort and distaste. She takes a seat at the far end, a clear sign of not wanting attention, but that just so happens to be almost directly in front of where Valerie herself is on the phone.

“I’ll save you the table, Busby,” she says. “But I gotta go. Got customers to serve.”

She hangs up the phone and leans over the bar to her newest-- and currently most interesting-- customer. “If that coat is as expensive as it looks, I’m not sure this is the place for you.”

The blonde laughs. “I just needed a place to get out of the snow.”

“Fair enough.” Valerie grabs a pint from a customer a few seats away and refills it. “Can I get you anything?”

“I don’t drink,” Fancy Coat says with a polite smile. “But thank you.”

Valerie shrugs. “We’ve got soda, water… soda water…”

She purses her lips. “Can I have a tea?”

They don’t serve tea. They’re a _pub,_ after all, and Valerie is starting to wonder if the heavy snow outside has made their sign illegible.

“Absolutely,” she catches herself saying. “Just a minute.”

Valerie bustles through to the back. “Frances, do we have a mug clean?”

Their dishwasher-- a rather anxious grad student in need of extra cash-- makes a face. “Somewhere, I suppose. What do you need a mug for?”

“Customer wants tea,” Val mutters.

“But Valerie,” Frances says, “we don’t _serve_ tea.”

“We do now,” Valerie proclaims.

Frances raises an eyebrow, a smile quirking at her lips. “Is she pretty?”

“Oh, shut your trap.” Valerie grabs a mug from some far corner. “Ew, this is dusty. Can you--”

“That’s what you pay me for,” Frances says cheerfully. “You might want to put the kettle on.”

“Right,” Valerie says, trying to pretend like she hadn’t forgotten. “I know how to make a cuppa.”

“‘Course you do.” Frances hands her the clean mug with a bemused smile.

Valerie sticks out her tongue. “Respect your elders.”

“Oi!” Frances splashes her with dishwater, laughing. “I’m only a decade younger than you!”

\---

Trixie is poring over Waze on her phone when the tall brunette barmaid comes back. “Do you want milk or sugar?”

“A bit of milk and one sugar would be nice,” she says. “Thank you…” but the women isn’t wearing a nametag.

“You can call me Val,” she says, reaching down and grabbing a carton of milk. 

“Trixie,” she replies, but her attention is drawn back to her phone by a series of traffic alerts. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“Something the matter?” Val the bartender leans against the bar.

Trixie huffs, her bangs fluttering. “I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to get back to my hotel tonight.”

“Where are you staying?” Val passes over a mug of tea, and Trixie takes it, looking up from her phone. 

“The Marriott W.”

Val wolf-whistles. “What are you doing all the way down in Poplar?”

“I was a guest speaker at the Nonnatus Maternity Hospital opening earlier tonight.” Trixie feels herself relax a bit as she sips at the warm tea.

The bartender visibly brightens. “Oh, you’re that fancy doctor they brought in! I’m friends with half the staff there; my roommate from nursing school has been gushing about you all week.”

Trixie blushes a bit, raising an eyebrow. “I’m honored.” She tilts her head, considering if her next question is too personal. “You went to nursing school?”

“Graduated fifth in my class,” Val answers. “Worked as an ER nurse for a few years. But after my gran died, my aunt needed help in the pub. Family business, and all that.”

Trixie mentally kicks herself. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Val. She gives Trixie a lopsided smile. “But, uh, thank you. For coming all the way down here. I know the Turner family, and a lot of the other Nonnatus folks, like I said.” Her smile grows. “You taking the time to show up meant a lot to them.”

\---

Despite her penchant for playing favorites and occasionally poor attitude toward rude customers, Valerie _does_ have others to serve, after she meets Trixie.

She spends two hours rushing back and forth, pouring innumerable drinks, waving to Patsy and Delia when they come in, and breaking up exactly two argument that get a little too rowdy. Even with the snow, she’s still fairly busy.

But she keeps an eye on her posh new friend the whole time, and Trixie never moves.

“You want another tea or something?” Valerie calls, her hands full of glasses to take back to Frances.

“No, thank you,” says Trixie, barely looking up from her phone. “I don’t think I need anymore caffeine tonight.”

“Do you know if you can get back to your hotel?” Valerie doesn’t know why she’s asking; it’s not like she has a solution. But still.

Trixie shakes her head. “Not in the slightest. All that’s changed in the past two hours is that my flight tomorrow morning has been canceled.”

“That’s no good,” Valerie says, making a sympathetic face. She glances at her wristwatch-- half past ten.

She shouldn’t.

She’s just met this woman.

There’s no reason to--

“Trixie,” Valerie says carefully, “if you really don’t know where you’re staying tonight… I have a pull-out in my flat upstairs.”

She stands stiller than she has all night as she waits for the blonde’s response.

Trixie frowns, checks her watch, checks her phone, and then sighs.

“Would you really do that for me?”

“‘Course,” Val mutters with a shrug. She idly wonders if it’s possible to force yourself not to blush. “Don’t want you to freeze to death out there.”

Trixie gives her a wide smile, and Valerie swears her heart skips a beat.

“Thank you,” she says. “You’ve just saved my neck.”

Valerie offers the most normal grin she can manage. “Anytime.”


	2. Baby It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie stays the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone! I just watched 6x07 last night and now I'm emo over valtrix again. So have this fluff!

It’s not like Valerie _never_ has women in her flat, but… she hasn’t in a while, and they’re normally there for… something else.

“I’ll find some extra blankets,” she says to Trixie, barely managing not to mumble. “Uh. The mattress is a little thin, but not bad, I don’t think. I just don’t want you to get cold. The heating tends to suffer when it gets this cold out.”

Trixie, perched delicately on the armrest of the pullout, smiles. “I’ll bundle up.”

Halfway to the linen closet, Valerie pauses and turns back, frowning. “Wait a minute. I don’t suppose you want to sleep in that designer dress.”

“It’s not _designer,”_ Trixie says, but she laughs slightly at Valerie’s raised eyebrow. “Oh. I see your point.”

Valerie flushes as she thinks about what she’s offering. “Um. I have sweatpants and the like. Do you even wear t-shirts?”

Trixie laughs, and it honest-to-god sounds like pealing bells. “You do realize this isn’t my everyday attire.”

“You’re such a fancy doctor, though,” Valerie snarks. “How would I know?” Trixie laughs again, and Valerie vanishes around the corner, into her own bedroom.

She grabs a long sleeved tee, from a 10k she’d done with Lucille, raising money for a children’s hospital. For sweatpants she finds a pair with a han solo-esque stripe down the side-- Trixie is a good deal shorter than her, so it’s probably best to give her something with an adjustable waist. She grabs all of the blankets and sheets off the top shelf and returns to the living space, but pauses.

Trixie is sitting fully on the sofa bed now, legs tucked under her, her back to Val. She’s undoing the updo holding her blonde hair in place, lining the pins up in an orderly row along the arm of the couch. Valerie smiles at that; they look as precise as a tray of medical instruments at the ready in an OR.

She watches silently as Trixie’s long blonde hair tumbles down her back, mussed and rumpled from a day of being pinned into place. It feels so different to see this mysterious, enigmatic woman sitting casually on her sagging sofa bed… her throat feels a little dry.

Valerie shakes herself. She’s just met Trixie, after all, and she’s only staying until the roads are passable. This is nothing. She’s just… unsettled by having a stranger in her flat.

A stranger who will soon be wearing her clothes.

“Hey,” she calls out softly. Trixie twists to look at her. “I’ve got a shirt and sweats for you, plus blankets. And we’ll probably want to put sheets on the bed.”

Trixie smiles warmly. “Thank you.”

Valerie is still firmly telling herself that there is absolutely no reason for her to be feeling like she is right now, with her heart fluttering and the hair on her arms standing up. But there’s something about Trixie that draws her in, makes her want to know _more._ Their hands brush when they both pull the same sheet corner over the bed, and Val swears she feels a shock.

“I should get back downstairs,” she murmurs. “I skipped out on closing, so I’d better help clean up.”

Trixie, now nestled under several blankets, gives a wave. “Thank you so much for this.”

“No problem,” Val replies, swinging around the corner to head down the stairs. “G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

\---

Trixie wakes up shivering, with pale gray light filtering in to signal the morning. Disoriented and tangled in blankets, it takes her a moment to get her wits about her to discern her surroundings. As she slowly sits up and looks around, memories of the night before come back to her.

She feels herself blush a bit. Crashing on a strange woman’s couch is not the norm for her, certainly not recently. But she shakes herself, pulling the soft, worn blankets tighter around her. She’s simply been offered charity by a good samaritan, nothing else. Valerie hasn’t even asked for anything in return… yet.

Honestly, it could just be her stubborn faith in the human race, but Trixie doesn’t think she will.

She can see the kitchen from here, kettle sitting cold on the stove, but getting up to make tea would require her to leave her semi-warm sanctuary. Looking out the window tells her it’s still snowing-- it’s not as if she’ll be going anywhere, anyway. So Trixie stays in the bed, listening to the hissing of the struggling radiator and wondering idly if Valerie is a morning person.

As it turns out, she is. The brunette appears with a toothbrush in her mouth about ten minutes later, and upon seeing Trixie, jumps half a foot in the air.

“Bloody ‘ell, I forgot you were here,” she says, her voice muffled by toothpaste. “I was jus’ comin’ to turn on some water for tea. You wan’ some?”

“Please,” Trixie says with a smile.

Val gives her a thumbs up as she heads into the kitchen. “Mkay, I’m gonna go finish up my morning routine--” she gestures to the toothbrush-- “and grab a sweatshirt. You warm enough?”

“Actually, I’m a bit chilly,” Trixie admits. “But I don’t want to take any more of your things.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Valerie heads back to her bedroom. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got tons.” With that, she vanishes through the door.

\---

As soon as she sees Trixie in her sweatshirt, Val knows she’d had the right idea to leave last night before she could see her new friend wearing her clothing.

There’s something that just feels… intimate about another girl wearing her sweatshirt. Especially when it’s too big on her, hanging past her hips with the sleeves covering her hands entirely. Especially when said sweatshirt is emblazoned with the lesbian flag.

Trixie is still sitting in bed, and reaches out for the mug of tea, inhaling deeply as her hands wrap around the warm cup. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Vanilla caramel,” Valerie answers. “My favorite holiday one. Peppermint is too strong for me.”

Trixie laughs. “You really get into the christmas spirit, then.”

“Everyone does, around here,” Valerie explains. “See, back in the 50s and 60s, Poplar really struggled. We’re still not the richest street in town, but things were a lot worse; my aunt will tell you. And then there was a group of nuns who came along, moved in just a few streets over. They were nurses and midwives, too, see. And it didn’t matter who couldn’t pay for a hospital or who was in public housing… they helped. They gave Poplar what it needed. And I dunno if it was the caroling or the children’s nativity or what, but everyone got to be a pretty big fan of Christmas, too.” She gives a lopsided smile. “The nuns are gone now; that building was condemned ages ago. But they named the new maternity hospital after them. The order of St. Raymond Nonnatus.”

Trixie blinks, nodding slowly, trying to take it all in. “That’s… quite the story.”

“More than you were expecting at seven am, huh?” Valerie laughs.

Trixie laughs, too. “Thought I might get breakfast before a history lesson.”

Standing and stretching, Valerie moves back toward the kitchen. “Let’s see what I can do.”

\---

Trixie doesn’t know what she’d expected for breakfast, but a vegetable and bacon hash and a fried egg isn’t it. The combination of sweet potato and roasted bell pepper is divine, and though she’s not a huge bacon person, it adds a wonderfully salty crunch. She applauds a bit as Valerie tops it with an egg, sunny side up. “Valerie, this looks amazing! Forget a pub, you should run a bed and breakfast!”

Valerie’s loud laughter is music to her ears. “Please. This is only a little fancier than what I’d make for just me.” She dives in, almost shoveling forkfuls into her mouth. “If you end up having to stay longer, I’ll treat you to a classic East End breakfast-- tea, toast, and kippers.”

Trixie hums, her mouth full of hash. “Speaking of which… the airport I’m flying out of has grounded flights for 48 hours. My hotel reservation runs out at noon today. And although it’s snowing less, I’m still not even sure I can get out of Poplar…”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” Valerie assures her. She lays a hand on Trixie’s arm, and it’s warm even through two layers. “Hold on, though-- what about your stuff?”

Trixie nearly chokes on her egg. “I didn’t think of that!” Her brows knit. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out a way to pick it up from the hotel… not that I don’t _love_ this sweatshirt,” she adds with a smile.

Oddly enough, Valerie turns red at that. “Heh. It looks good on you,” she mutters, but quickly fumbles for her phone. “Um, you said the W, right? I might have some friends that are gonna be around there anyway…”

“That would certainly help,” Trixie says, raising an eyebrow. “Would it be too much trouble for them to come down here?”

“Nah,” Val says. “It’s my friend Lucille and her fiance Cyril-- he’s a preacher, and he’s doing a wedding there this afternoon. They’re coming by for game night later, they can bring your stuff.”

Trixie laughs. “Game night?”

“Oh, yeah.” Valerie grins at her. “Five O’clock. You’ll get to meet all my friends.”

Trixie beams.

This isn’t at all how she’d expected to spend her Christmas week, and it’s certainly a departure from her usual routine, but…

“Sounds fantastic,” she tells Valerie.

The brunette’s smile warms her as much as the holiday tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Trixie is gonna get some holiday cheer!


	3. The Snow is Falling and Friends are Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie meets Valerie's friends, and has a game night unlike any she's ever had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone! I have a few hours off school this morning bc of a bit of snow in my area. It's really pretty, and it's putting me in a great mood. Hope you all have something to brighten your day as well!

Patsy and Delia are the first to arrive for game night. This makes sense-- they’re in town, and just as snowed in as everyone else-- but it’s still a problem for Valerie.

She’d texted the group chat that she had a guest staying with her because of the weather, but hadn’t really found the need to elaborate. And then Patsy had taken one look at Trixie, curled up by the fireplace and still sporting Valerie’s **GIRLS** sweatshirt, and promptly dragged Val back to the fire escape.

“Christ, Mount,” Valerie mumbles, “don’t you know it’s freezing out here?”

Patsy folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. “You’re deflecting.”

“I don’t think it counts as deflecting if you haven’t asked me anything yet…”

“Alright, let’s see. Why is there a strange woman in your apartment? Who is she? Have you shagged her? Did--”

Valerie makes a noise of protest, holding her hands in a ‘time out’ gesture. “Woah, woah! Too many questions! Her name is Trixie, she’s from up north, she was in Poplar to speak at the opening of the maternity hospital and then got trapped by the blizzard. And we have _not_ had sex!”

“Wait. Wait a minute.” Patsy folds her arms. “Trixie? Is that short for Beatrix?”

“Maybe? How should I know?”

“You said she spoke at the Nonnatus opening,” Patsy says.

“Yes. Apparently she’s a big name in obstetrics or something, I dunno--”

“Valerie!” Patsy sounds somewhere between exasperated and flabbergasted. “Even _I_ know who Dr. Franklin is, and I work in infectious diseases! You’ve got one of London’s rising starts crashing on your couch, and you’re bloody crushing on her!”

“I am not!” Valerie feels the blush covering her whole face. Clearly it’s just as obvious to Patsy. “This is your fault,” she mutters, staring at her feet.

Patsy barks out a laugh. “How do you reckon that?”

“You and Delia are the only lesbians in town,” Valerie grumbles, “and you’ve been together since before I even met you.”

This time, Patsy’s laugh is loud and amused. She claps Val on the shoulder and climbs back into the flat. 

\---

Trixie had introduced herself to Delia upon her arrival, but after Valerie and Patsy had disappeared, they’d lapsed into a slightly awkward silence.

“I like your sweatshirt,” Delia says.

“I had to borrow it from Valerie,” Trixie explains. She looks down at herself, running a hand over the slightly peeling lesbian flag and the bold black type that sais **GIRLS.** She laughs a bit. “Although I wouldn’t mind one like this. Nice and efficient, makes the point loud and clear.”

“So, you’re gay, then?” Delia asks curiously. “Patsy will be relieved.”

“Yes…” Trixie answers. “But I… I haven’t been in a relationship in quite a while.” She clears her throat. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, she thinks Valerie is catching feelings for you,” Delia says, shrugging like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Last time there was a girl Val really liked, she turned out to be straight. Didn’t end well. Dealing with a depressed Valerie is almost as bad as dealing with a depressed Patsy.”

Trixie laughs, because she doesn’t know how else to respond. “Oh, I don’t think--- I-- We’ve just met,” she says helplessly. Again, she finds herself unable to look Delia in the eye. She should be weirded out by this, taken aback at the idea of feelings coming into the equation already. But her discomfort is more of an antsy anticipation, almost a hope that what Delia is saying could be true…

_No,_ she tells herself firmly. _You’re getting your wires crossed. You’re sleeping in her house and wearing her clothes and that’s giving your brain the wrong signals, that’s all. This is just a neurological mix-up causing a crush._

When she looks up, Delia is watching her with apologetic concern. “Sorry,” she says. “I was being nosy.”

“You’re quite alright,” Trixie tells her. When Patsy and Valerie return, she almost melts with relief.

\---

Half an hour later, Lucille, Cyril, Tom, and Barbara have all arrived, the latter being a bit late thanks to a patient unexpectedly going into labor. Mugs of cocoa have been served and holiday music plays from the radio, adding to the cheery atmosphere of the place. Lucille and Barbara both have quickly befriended Trixie, a bit starstruck to have such a recognizable name in their midst. Trixie herself seems a little… surprised at the attention, like this isn’t what she’d expected, or like the whole night feels foreign to her. She’s gotten her own clothes back, at least, and is wearing what she’d sworn was her most casual outfit-- a green plaid blouse and a pair of dark denim skinny jeans.

“Who’s ready to ruin some relationships?” Valerie asks, raising her voice to be heard over the chatter. A cheer goes up as she pulls out the monopoly box, a new set that had been a christmas gift from Delia the year before. She opens it up and begins setting up all the money and deeds as everyone else vies for various tokens.

“I’ve never played Monopoly,” Trixie says quietly, turning her tiny metal cannon over in her hand.

Valerie pauses in her distribution of paper money. “Really? Never?”

“Not since I was a child, at least,” she answers. “I have some memory of my grandmother teaching me to play… I might’ve been eleven or twelve?”

“Well, I’m glad I could re-introduce you to it,” Valerie says, giving a jovial smile. “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a refresher on the rules!”

“Oh, good,” says Tom. “I always forget what you can and can’t do in jail.”

“And can someone remind our little robbery enthusiast that she isn’t allowed to steal from the free parking money?” Patsy adds, ruffling Delia’s hair.

A wave of laughter washes over them, and Delia’s protests are drowned out.

“Alright,” Valerie says, “so everyone starts with a certain amount of money…”

\---

Trixie does not win Monopoly.

But she has fun. A _lot_ of fun. A ridiculous amount of fun, for a crowded board game that ends with Patsy and Valerie wrestling on the table.

Ordinarily, this sort of night is… not her style. She doesn’t have a group of friends like this, colleagues and old friends and significant others combined. She’d rather do a crossword or a puzzle than play a competitive game. Honestly, her idea of a calm winter night involves a facemask, a nice bath, and either Lizzo or Girl in Red, depending on her mood.

But right now, it’s almost one in the morning, and she’s hoarse from laughing and screaming happily. She’d hugged everyone goodbye, and normally she doesn’t hug strangers-- she rarely hugs anyone-- but even after sneaky trades and shouted debates they’d felt like friends. Normally she glides through social events with small talk and honed charisma, but tonight she’d genuinely laughed at the jokes, contributed to odd conversations, and felt comfortable acting as herself.

There’s much to think about.

Trixie is pulled from her thoughts by Valerie’s voice from the bedroom doorway. She’s already wearing her flannel pajamas, the checkerboard pants mismatched with the plaid shirt and it all in discordance with the rainbow “Poplar Pride” tshirt underneath. She gives Trixie a concerned look. “Is that what you’re sleeping in?”

Trixie runs her hands over her silk nightdress. “Yes? It’s a nightgown?”

“You were cold in sweats and a long sleeved tee, chick,” Valerie points out. “I know it feels better to sleep in your own stuff, but are you sure you don’t want my sweatshirt again?”

Trixie finds herself smiling at the thought of the soft grey pullover. “If you’re offering… but only because I like the flag so much.”

She swears Valerie is blushing as she ducks back through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone with artistic skills feels the need to draw Trixie in Val's sweatshirt I would _love_ to see it... my tumblr is currently tinseltrixie 👀


	4. Everything is Icy and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie settles into Poplar, but at the same time, she feels a bit set apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any Taylor Swift fans here? I stayed up until midnight to listen to evermore and I do NOT regret it. Anyway, in terms of the actual story... get ready for Feelings!

The entire time she’s been here, Poplar has been grey skies and drifting snow… or blowing snow, in the case of the first night.

So Trixie is a bit surprised to wake up the second morning to bright blue skies and golden sun shining down on the nearly sixty centimeters of snow on the ground. As she looks out at the sunny, clear sky, a smile curves over her lips. She’s never really appreciated the simple beauty of a snowy day before…

“Morning, love,” comes Valerie’s greeting, and something about the cockney accent makes the words themselves feel warm.

For a moment Trixie is struck by an odd image in her mind, imagining herself and Valerie waking up together without an entire wall separating them, arms warming each other as much as words. She imagines years of bright winter mornings and tea in more flavors than her usual earl grey, countless days stretching in front of her with the tall brunette by her side--

She shakes herself. _You have a problem, Franklin._ “Good morning, Valerie,” she manages.

“Kippers and toast sound good for breakfast?”

“After your delightful hash yesterday, I’ll eat anything you cook,” Trixie says lightly.

Is she flirting? She might be flirting. She shouldn’t, she doesn’t mean to be, yet here they are…

She’s never like this with anyone. God, is it possible that she really just needs a good friend? Is this whole mess a product of her isolating herself and spending all of her time and energy on work?

Her attention is drawn back to Valerie when she moves toward the kitchen; she’s been speaking this whole time, and Trixie had zoned out.

“I’ll start by putting on some tea,” Val is saying.

Trixie smiles too brightly. “Splendid.”

\---

Valerie needs to rein herself in.

She focuses intently on her cast iron pan, shuffling the cooking sausages through their own grease. The toast pops out of the toaster, and she speaks to Trixie without looking up. “Would you mind putting some butter on those?”

She can’t look at her because every time she looks at her, her heart skips a beat or two, and she finds herself spellbound by those bright blue eyes. It’s only a strong physical attraction, increased by the constant proximity. But she can tell she’s making Trixie uncomfortable.

Well, something is making her uncomfortable, and Valerie suspects it’s her. After all, she doesn’t even know if Trixie leans the same way she does. She could be straight, could be freaked out by Valerie’s poorly-hidden crush.

Serving the kippers onto two plates, Valerie bites her lip as she remembers Trixie’s request last night.

She could _not_ be straight. What then?

_Then she’s on her way back to her fancy hospital as soon as the planes are flying again,_ Valerie reminds herself.

Either way… if Valerie doesn’t get ahold of herself, this week is going to be painful for them both.

\---

The pub opens at noon. The first hour or two is quiet enough for Trixie to sit by the fireplace with her laptop, doing her work remotely and getting to know the rest of the bar staff.

(Hilda is quite an extrovert and a cheery conversationalist. Frances occasionally yells bad jokes from the kitchen. Flo hasn’t said a word to Trixie since introducing herself, and might possibly hate her already.)

By three PM, though, Trixie has answered all the important emails in her inbox, and more customers are flowing in, ordering drinks, and generally making the place more crowded and boisterous. She’ll admit it’s setting her a bit on edge.

“Valerie,” she calls, approaching the bar and raising her voice a bit, “do you need me to run to the store or anything? I thought I’d pop out for a bit of fresh air.”

Val laughs. “You sure you won’t get lost? Do you even have snow boots?”

Trixie looks down at her black boots, the shiny leather rising to just below her knee. They’ve got a more practical heel than a lot of her wardrobe-- about two inches, but very sturdy-- but aren’t exactly built for wading through slowly melting slush.

She sighs, and shrugs. “I suppose I’ve just got a bit of cabin fever.”

“You can wear mine,” Valerie says. “I’ll give you a list and some money.”

“No, please,” Trixie protests. “My treat.”

Val gives her that lopsided grin that makes something in her stomach swoop pleasantly. “If you insist.”

\---

At twelve-thirty in the morning, Valerie climbs the stairs to her flat, begging out of clean up by pointing out that she’d left her guest alone for the better part of twelve hours. Aunt Flo had pointed out that said guest hadn’t bought so much as a seltzer, but Frances had promised to pull Val’s weight, saying that she didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning.

To her surprise, she finds Trixie in the tiny kitchen, whisking what looks like some combination of flour and sugar. She catches Valerie’s eye but turns back to her task. “It’s snowing again.”

Val shrugs. “Sleet, ice, what have you. Not real snow, just something that’ll freeze everything with a layer of ice.”

“Still means planes won’t fly,” Trixie tsks.

Valerie feels her heart sink, some combination of guilt at her thoughtlessness and sorrow at the thought of Trixie going away. “Blimey. I forgot about that.” She laughs a bit, sinking into an overstuffed armchair. “Feels like you’ve always been here.”

“I like it here,” Trixie answers. “Not the worst place to be snowed in.”

Valerie smiles but doesn’t trust herself to speak. She lets her eyes drift closed, inhales the scent of soap drifting up from downstairs and mingling with the sweet, decadent scents of whatever Trixie’s making.

“So… you bake?”

“It calms me down and gives me something to do,” Trixie answers. “My last girlfriend was a pastry chef; she taught me. I… was in a hard place. It helped.” After a heavy pause, her tone changes suddenly. “Oh, bollocks. You probably want to get some sleep, and I’m running around keeping you up! I’m sorry!”

“No, no,” Valerie protests, far more interested in what Trixie’s just revealed. “You’re-- you’re fine. I’d much rather help out with whatever deliciousness you’re creating here.” She lifts herself from the chair, but falters. “Unless… you said it was something you did with your-- if this is some private therapy thing--”

“I’d love your company!” Trixie says too quickly, a smile appearing on her face like she’s flipped a switch. 

For a moment they just stand there watching each other, the tension thick, the awkwardness palpable. Valerie rubs a hand over the back of her neck remorsefully.

In the next moment, they both collapse into giggles.

“I can’t believe it,” Valerie pants, still gasping for breath. “This whole time… I’ve just been _waiting_ to figure out if you were gay…”

This sends Trixie into peals of laughter again. “I asked you _specifically_ for the lesbian flag sweatshirt! What more do you need!?”

Valerie makes a face, unpleasant memories surfacing. “Eh… I chased after a girl for a while who was straight as uncooked spaghetti. Fucked me up for a bit after.”

“Delia told me,” Trixie admits, turning back to her cake.

“What?” Valerie’s eyes widen as she leans against the wall. “Oh, no. She and Patsy are trying to set us up.”

Trixie giggles. “I think they might be.”

“Ugh, just because they’re gonna tie the knot any minute means they think everyone should,” Val grumbles. She paces over to lean against the counter. “What are you making, anyway?”

“Ginger cake,” Trixie answers. “Tis the season, I suppose. Are Patsy and Delia engaged?”

“Not yet.” Valerie idly picks up the jar of molasses. “They’ve been together for… four years, I think? Since before I met them. How much of this do you need?”

“Just one cup.” Trixie is still adding dry ingredients. “So… not a case of the small town lesbians all having dated each other at some time or another?”

Valerie laughs aloud at that. “Oh, no. Now, you’ve met them both, I certainly wouldn’t have objected, but they’re thick as thieves, there’s no splitting them up.”

“They’re the sort of couple that make you believe in romance movies, hm?” Trixie adds her ingredients to the mixer, seemingly very absorbed in stirring it all.

“Yeah,” Valerie agrees. “They’re happy, and they deserve it.” She watches Trixie for a long moment, just soaking it in, this peaceful moment in the kitchen in the middle of the night. “Hey… if you don’t mind me asking… why’d you end it with the pastry chef? I just-- it’s none of my business, but it doesn’t seem like you would keep a coping mechanism from a painful relationship.”

“She moved to America,” Trixie answers with a tight smile. “We both knew our work would come first. I didn’t… I didn’t fight it. I liked having her around, and at the time I said I loved her, but…” she trails off, and when she speaks again, she’s much quieter. “It wasn’t enough to ask her to stay. I didn’t feel torn apart when she left. So maybe it wasn’t love, after all.”

Something about the melancholy emanating from Trixie’s voice, from her bright blue eyes, makes Valerie reach out and take her hand, stilling it in its reach for the sugar. “You’ll find love someday,” she murmurs. “Or it’ll find you. Someone who puts you first before practically anything. Someone who can’t imagine _not_ staying. And you won’t ever have to find out if leaving would tear you apart, because they won’t leave.”

When Trixie looks up, when she really smiles at her, Valerie feels a sudden pang in her chest.

She wants that for Trixie, she wants it badly.

But she wants it for herself, too.

And with every word of her reassurance, she’d only made it more certain that she couldn’t be that person… and Trixie couldn’t be hers.

Valerie manages to smile back. And then they return their attention to the cake, and everything is okay.

Besides, even if she did have feelings for Trixie… it’s way too soon to be pulling out words like love, anyway.

Way too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go big or go home, I guess!


	5. Somebody Waits for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie helps out her friends. Trixie gets down in her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today has been A Day so this is later than usual. Fitting that this is the chapter I almost forget, because it's also the chapter where I went "wait, I wanted a Patsy/Delia subplot" and had to hurry that along 😂 enjoy!

When Trixie had taken Valerie up on the offer of her pull-out until the snow cleared, she hadn’t bargained on multiple days of insane blizzards.

(Val says it’s normal Poplar winter. Trixie has never seen so much snow at once.)

Her fourth day snowbound at the Black Sail includes howling wind, bitter cold, and skies that are just plain _white._ It’s absolute insanity to her, and apparently even those more used to the weather are starting to agree.

“I’m not opening in this,” Aunt Flo declares, shuffling around the empty bar at 10am. “Too much bloody snow. It’s been snowing all week, and it’s not gonna stop. When I can’t open the door what for the drifts outside, it’s too much to open.”

Trixie and Valerie are stealing wood from the pub’s fireplace to take to the wood stove upstairs. “Thank god,” snarks Val. “I don’t much fancy work today. It’s more of a blankets and cocoa day, if you ask me.”

Blankets and cocoa turn out to be very nice. Aunt Flo disappears to the second flat on top of the pub, and it’s just Trixie and Valerie, curled up on Trixie’s bed thanks to lack of desire to put the couch back in order. Trixie has stolen the lesbian flag sweatshirt again; it now makes her think of Valerie’s revelation in the kitchen, and the fun they’d had that night.

_Something_ had changed, then. Trixie isn’t exactly sure what. But something between them had changed, in the looks they exchanged and the jokes Valerie threw out and even the way they were leaning against each other now.

Some might call it cuddling. Trixie has decided to think of it as sharing a blanket as well as body heat for increased warmth.

No matter that they’re in her bed.

\---

Valerie pauses _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ when she hears heavy, booted footsteps in the creaky wood stairs. “Who the hell is that?” she mutters. “It’s not Aunt Flo.”

“Valerie?” A distinctly welsh voice calls out. “You’re not answering your texts!”

She picks up her phone and sees a string of missed messages “Shit, that’s my bad. Is everything alright?”

Delia flops down on the sofa bed with a dramatic groan. “No! Nothing is alright! This _ffycin_ snowstorm is ruining all of my plans!”

Valerie leans over her, head tilting with concern. “Didn’t realize you had plans. Thought you and Pats hibernated all winter, cuddling and drinking eggnog and doing it on the coffee table.”

Delia swats her. “That was one time! And you should’ve knocked!”

“Bold words for someone who just stormed up into my flat without so much as calling out. For all you knew, Trixie and I could’ve been going at it.”

Next to her, Trixie makes a loud squeaking noise. Valerie turns to her with a quick smirk, though she knows she’s blushing.

(Confirming that Trixie was gay had made it easier for her to joke about it. But no number of jokes can fully hide the persistent feelings that bring color to her cheeks.)

The woman in question straightens her posture, adopting a prim manner. “You wish,” she teases.

But she doesn’t hold eye contact with Valerie for very long.

Val turns her attention back to Delia. “What plans are being ruined, anyway?”

Delia rolls over, planting her face in the pile of blankets. She mumbles something, but Valerie can’t hear.

“Louder than that, chick.” She nudges her friend’s shoulder, urging her out of the blankets. “What was that?”

“I’m trying to propose,” Delia sighs.

Valerie’s eyes widen, though she’s honestly not too surprised. “What’s the issue? Just get down on one knee and ask. You know Patsy will say yes.”

“It’s not that easy!” Delia smacks her shoulder. “Patsy’s all… fancy. Yes, she chose the small-town life, she shifted away from trust funds and research institutes, but still! I feel like all the other milestones in her life have been _big._ So this needs to be big, too.”

“I don’t know,” Valerie posits, “the best girlfriend she’s ever had is barely five foot.”

Delia gives a scream of frustration. _”Coc y gath,_ Dyer, you’re no help! What if I’m not the best girlfriend she’s ever had!?”

“Delia, sweetie,” Trixie interrupts, “I have spent exactly one evening with you and Patsy. The only time I saw the two of you _not_ in physical contact was when one of you went to get food for the other. You’re the happiest couple I’ve ever seen, and I’m barely exaggerating. She’s utterly besotted, I promise you.”

Delia takes a deep, shaky breath, and nods. She gives Valerie a side eye. “See? _that’s_ how you support a friend in need, Val.” She gets a thoughtful look on her face. “Hey, Trixie, you’re a fancy doctor… how can I impress Patsy with my proposal?”

Trixie shrugs, pursing her lips. “Um… well, I…” 

Valerie wonders if she’s imagining the discomfort in her expression.

“Studies show that exuberant spending on the rings and the weddings leads to financial stress and less happiness in the marriage?” Trixie shrugs again. “Honestly, I’m not the person to ask… I’ve never… wanted that. In a relationship. Honestly, I’m not the person to come to for romantic advice,” she sighs.

Delia nods, making a bit of a face. “Sorry if that was a… personal question.” 

“No, no,” Trixie says quickly, smiling. “You’re fine.”

Valerie stands from the couch, stretching a bit. “Okay, Deels, don’t worry, we’re gonna help you figure this out. But first--” she swings around the couch and toward the kitchen-- “tea.”

\---

Trixie can’t help but feel a bit awkward during their “planning session” with Delia. While Valerie and Delia discuss ethically-sourced rings and significant dates, she tries to stay involved, but feels a bit out of the loop. It’s nothing against either woman, of course-- Trixie is the one intruding on their lives, after all.

But that reminder stings a little bit, disappointment seeping into Trixie’s mood with every sip of tea.

She’s inwardly chiding herself for feeling like this. This isn’t her life. This is a moment where everything normal has been paused, and she is patiently waiting for things to go back to normal. But also… it’s a moment to breathe. Everything about Poplar is so new and fresh to her. People are friendly instead of rushing, willing to do things like offer a stranger a place to sleep for the night. She drinks hot cocoa now instead of chugging tea for caffeine. Being so far away from work has forced her to focus on other things.

The thing is, she doesn’t usually _have_ other things.

This is nice. She loves it here. She’s making friends, taking time to enjoy other people, and not just interact with them as patients or colleagues.

But sooner or later, she’s going to have to leave.

She wonders if normal will still feel normal after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trixie is Struggling...


	6. Golden Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game night again... but it's not as much carefree fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know I normally update this in the mornings, but today has been busy. Get ready to start wrapping things up!

With Delia already at the flat, the afternoon and evening soon becomes another game night. Trixie is honestly surprised that everyone makes it; the snow is still blowing hard. But the same group arrives, and cocoa is made and cards are dealt, and the festive atmosphere returns.

Trixie wonders how she hadn’t noticed before that all of Valerie’s friends were couples.

Even with everyone else laughing and joking as they play, it’s hard for Trixie to get into the game. The coziness of being shoulder to shoulder with everyone has turned into a bit of claustrophobia, and every time she makes eye contact with Valerie there’s a pain in her chest, the kind that reminds her why relationships had always taken a backseat to work. So after losing for the third time in a row, Trixie excuses herself, wrapping up in her long coat and stepping out to the fire escape for some semblance of privacy.

It hadn’t been like this the first time. That first game night had felt almost magical, like a window had been opened, showing her a whole other side to life that she’d never really immersed herself in.

But it had been a window… not a door. And now that she’s used to the shutters being open, she’s realizing the glass is in the way.

Trixie glares into the whirling snow, which stings her face and collects in her bangs. 

It’s all Valerie’s fault. Beautiful, funny Valerie, with her irresistible charisma and ridiculous charm. She’d made Trixie feel so at home, so accepted, like she didn’t have to keep pushing, keep climbing, like happiness could come from places other than success.

In Poplar, it can. Poplar is like living in a bloody snow globe. Cozy pubs, insane amounts of snow, christmas music all the time… and no real-world concerns.

Trixie’s life doesn’t include a quirky butch bartender with deep emotion in her eyes and jokes on her lips. It doesn’t include game nights with as many dear friends as can be crammed into a tiny flat. It doesn’t include days wiled away under blankets with feel-good movies playing on TV. That’s not how she lives.

Oh, how she wishes it was.

She’s idly wondering how much of this is her growing feelings for Valerie and how much is her desire to have a nice, simple life when the window creaks open behind her. It’s Barbara, with a resigned look on her face. “Trixie, I’ve been told to fetch you for strip poker.”

Trixie laughs. “Strip poker?”

Barbara makes a face. “I was more on board for Delia’s suggestion that we play Twister, but there’s not enough open floor space for the mat.”

“That’s a shame,” Trixie says, following Barbara back into the flat. “I’m quite flexible myself… would’ve beat you all.”

“Alright everyone, listen up,” Valerie calls. “When you’re down to your underwear, you’re out; we’re not going full nude, we don’t want to freeze. All jewelry et cetera should be removed before hand; Patsy has enough earrings to win without losing her sweatshirt. Outer layers can stay but you can’t put anything on that you’re not wearing right now; I see you going for that windbreaker, Cyril!” She claps her hands. “We’re going to play Hold ‘Em, everyone familiar?”

The surrounding company answers in the affirmative. 

“Alright,” says Valerie. “I’ll deal.”

\---

Almost an hour into the poker game, Valerie is down to her long-sleeved undershirt over her sweats, without socks or the two layers she’d had on top. She’s doing fairly well; Lucille has already gone out, Delia is about to, and Barbara has lost enough to be shivering. They’ve decided to allow blankets, but those won’t count as clothing.

Trixie is playing well, but had had the misfortune to be wearing a dress. Her tights are the only thing saving her right now, and Valerie is, admittedly, trying not to stare. That lacy black bra is… something.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for lace, Franklin,” Patsy says, glancing briefly up at Trixie before returning her focus to her cards. “Scratchy. Distracting. And you can’t wear black under light colors.”

“You’ll recall I had a dark dress on previously, Patsy,” Trixie points out. “And lace is only uncomfortable if you wear cheap lace. This set may have cost a pretty penny, but it’s lasted for years without degrading, and it feels like heaven.”

_”How_ do you make a bra like that last!?” Valerie demands.

“You date a woman who won’t literally rip it off you,” Delia snarks.

Valerie sticks her tongue out. “You’re one to talk.”

“Dry cleaning, Valerie, it’s a simple as that,” Trixie answers. She frowns at her cards. “I’ll hold.”

“I’ll raise,” Cyril says, too quickly.

Valerie scoffs. “Call.”

Surprisingly, Trixie loses the hand. She’s out of the game, now… and Valerie suddenly realizes what she’d meant by _set._

Ignoring her pesky, unhelpful feelings is a lot harder when Trixie is literally wearing lingerie.

Valerie sulks, keeping her eyes on her card, glad she’s not shirtless to reveal her full body flush.

That’s the trouble with feelings… ignoring them doesn’t make them go away.

\---

Trixie had been a bit on edge during the entire strip poker game. She’d managed to get a bit more into the spirit of things, with everyone laughing at the ridiculousness of the game, but watching Valerie slowly undress had been… something.

She’d tried to keep her attention on the game, but it hadn’t helped that every time she risked a glance at Val, the brunette was already looking at _her._

The game had ended eventually with Patsy the winner, and as everyone else dressed themselves, they’d come to the realization that it was firstly almost midnight, and secondly far too dark and snowy to find the way home from the pub.

“It’ll be a sleepover!” Valerie declares cheerfully. “C’mon, we’ve got eight of us, two beds, and plenty of blankets to make some sort of nest. Let’s improvise!”

“Are we putting four people in each bed,” Patsy asks, “or will we draw straws to see who sleeps on the floor?”

Valerie hums. “Haven’t gotten that far.”

“We’ve shared beds all the time, just us girls,” Lucille points out. “Let’s put three to each bed and make the boys take the floor.”

Barbara tilts her head in a thoughtful manner, then begins to nod. She turns to Tom with a smile. “You boys can figure something out with the couch cushions.”

“And I’ll bring out some extra blankets,” Valerie adds.

Tom and Cyril exchange glances, then sigh and nod.

Delia leans against the back of the couch. “How will the rest of us split up? I’m with Patsy, obviously.”

“I’ll be happy to share with whoever else is on the sofa bed,” Barbara volunteers.

“I’m staying in my bed,” Valerie insists, “and I’m rescuing Trixie from you heathens. Lucille, you can be our third bed mate because you’re my favorite.”

Everyone else feigns offense, though they soon dissolve into laughter. Trixie uses the distraction to take a few deep breaths and try to get her head on straight. There’s no reason for her to be freaking out about this. It’s absolutely unnecessary. It’ll be her and Valerie _and Lucille,_ and everything is going to be fine and normal.

That lasts until she steps into Valerie’s bedroom with her pajamas and an extra blanket. Valerie pulls the door shut, and they all change into their sleepwear without discussion. Trixie keeps her eyes down and her breathing steady. This is fine. Yes, she’s finally been forced to accept that she has something of a crush on Valerie, but that doesn’t affect this. This is just… platonic bed-sharing. Yes. Right.

She ends up in between Lucille and Valerie, and once they’re actually under the blankets, she relaxes somewhat. It’s not all that awkward, really, and the warmth of two bodies against her is welcome in the cold night. Lucille is sort of using her as a pillow, and Valerie has wrapped herself around Trixie in a way that might be called spooning, but it’s… nice.

It feels normal and right. Another one of those odd things she’s found in Poplar that seem like they’d be nice to take home with her when she leaves.

(She also wouldn’t mind if it _was_ just her and Valerie. But that is Never Going to Happen, so it’s not worth wasting a thought on.)

Trixie allows herself to relax and sink into the mattress, plenty warm in the blankets and the dog pile.

It doesn’t take long at all for her to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there was OnLy OnE bEd--


	7. Tidings of Comfort and Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie and Valerie wake up together. Valerie assists with a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment many of you have been waiting for!

Valerie isn’t one to lounge around in bed in the mornings. The transition from warm blankets to cold air is rough, yes, but she has things to do and doesn’t like to waste time doing them. 

With Trixie and Lucille in bed with her this morning, though…

She’s truly warm and cozy, not just comfortably not-cold. Trixie is wrapped around her, her head resting on her chest, and Lucille is resting mostly on top of Trixie. From sharing rooms with both of them at one point or another, Valerie knows they all normally wake around the same time. She can stay still and not wake them for now.

It’s a bit surprising when Trixie is the first to wake. Confusion shows on her face at first, and she wiggles a bit, moving a still-asleep Lucille off of her unintentionally. When she meets Valerie’s eyes, she smiles, relaxing again and resting her head in the crook of Val’s shoulder. Valerie laughs softly.

“Not ready to get out of bed yet?” Her voice is low and husky from disuse.

“I like being here with you,” Trixie whispers against her shoulder. “It’s nice. Lets me… pretend. I don’t want to leave.”

Valerie rubs Trixie’s back slowly, her fingers playing through the soft blonde curls spread messily over the silky nightgown. She takes a slow breath, caught off-guard by Trixie’s honesty. It seems like sharing a bed has affected both of them.

“Pretend?” she asks slowly.

“Pretend that…” Trixie’s breath is audible and shaky. “That we could do this every morning. That there could be something between us. That life could truly be as simple as it has been this week.”

In that moment, breathing is a struggle for Valerie. Her hand stills on Trixie’s skin. Hazel eyes stare into blue. Valerie slowly realizes she’s close enough to kiss her.

“This is what it’s like here,” she murmurs. “Not just during the holidays, or during a snowstorm. The bar is a lot of work, but almost everyone who comes in there knows each other. Life can be this simple, Trix.” She moves her hand to cup the blonde’s cheek. “And if you want something between us, well…”

“Don’t,” Trixie says, looking away. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Valerie, I-- I’m not made for a place like this. Life doesn’t get to be easy for someone like me.”

As she pulls away, Valerie sits up. Her heart is still racing too fast and confusion is mingling with a bit of hurt in her chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You barely know me,” Trixie says, turning away and trying to climb off the bed. “And I-- sooner or later, I have to go home.”

Valerie gets out of bed and rounds the corner, trying to follow her. “I’m confused,” she calls. “Did I-- did I say something?” 

Trixie vanishes out the door.

“I wasn’t suggesting we permanently move in together or anything,” she calls.

There’s no response from the main room.

At the sound of shifting blankets on the bed, Val turns to see Lucille blearily blinking awake. “What just happened?” she asks her friend.

Lucille frowns. “Dunno why you’re asking me,” she mumbles. “I just woke up.”

\---

Helping Delia plan her proposal to Patsy had seemed like a much better idea before Valerie had been foolish enough to broach the subject of _feelings_ with Trixie. Now she’s setting up the bar (still technically closed) with Delia, supposedly in charge of soothing the welshwoman, but she’s not exactly at ease herself.

“Okay, okay,” Delia says, her words coming out in a worried rush. “When is Patsy getting here? You said Lucille was going to get her? What is she expecting, what does she think this is?”

Valerie shrugs. “Lucille said she would be vague, just mention a general surprise.”

Delia’s face falls. “Patsy _hates_ surprises!”

“Hey, hey.” Valerie reaches to squeeze her friend’s shoulder, mustering a supportive smile. “She’ll love this one. Even if she is nervous about everyone jumping out at her or something, she’ll relax when she sees it’s just you. Speaking of which…” she ducks down behind the bar and grabs a few bottles and glasses. “The fire’s going, we got the place decorated, and here are drinks… I’ll bring down the stew pot, and then you’re on your own.”

Delia smiles brightly, her eyes already sparkling with emotion that will turn to tears before the day runs out. She follows Val around the bar and wraps her in a tight hug, ignoring the substantial height difference. “Thank you, Valerie. You’re the best.”

This time, it’s easier for Valerie to give a real smile. “Anything for you two.”

\---

Of course Patsy says yes. Honestly, Delia is the only one who had even worried. But it’s still a cause for celebration no matter how expected, and Valerie is more than happy to host everyone at her flat once again.

She plans on actually sending them home tonight, though.

Patsy and Delia have not let go of each other, practically conjoined at this point. Patsy is thrilled by her silver band inlaid with three small diamonds, and Delia had been surprised by a ring of her own with a single larger stone set at the top. They’re both overjoyed, and everyone else is happy for them.

Valerie is happy, too. She’s trying hard to celebrate Patsy and Delia tonight, and forget about her disastrous morning with Trixie. Dwelling won’t help anyone now…

And then she strolls into the kitchen, intending to offer Trixie a seltzer, since everyone else is drinking, and it’s just the two of them, even though everyone else is crowded not three meters away. And the tension and the _longing_ comes flooding back.

“Got you a seltzer,” she mutters, holding out the can.

Trixie takes it despite standing right in front of a fridge full of the same beverage. “Thank you,” she answers, not meeting Valerie’s gaze.

Val wonders idly how she opens cans without ruining her manicure.

“So…” she has no idea what she’s going to say next.

“I booked a flight,” Trixie says abruptly. “It’s, um. It’s in four days. Christmas Day. Seeing as we haven’t gotten any snow since yesterday, I thought that might be enough time for the roads to be passable.”

“If you’re lucky.” Valerie gives a wry smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Cyril or somebody can drive you if the buses don’t run.”

Trixie answers with a tight smile of her own. “I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

Valerie nods. “I suppose you will.” And then even looking at Trixie, eye contact or no, becomes too painful, and she turns away, forcing herself to take the few steps back to the party.

This is her life, and Trixie was never supposed to be part of it.

So why now does she so passionately want her to stay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Trixie heads home...


	8. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas party. A noticeable absence. A missed flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion! Hope it lives up to your expectations!

Christmas Eve.

The most wonderful time of the year.

Valerie is, for once, not hosting everyone in her tiny flat. Instead, they’re at Patsy and Delia’s house, which has a similar coziness, thankfully with more room for mingling.

And the tall, wide fir tree, bedecked with colorful lights (Delia’s insistence) and exotic ornaments (relics of Patsy’s years before Poplar) is a nice touch.

Having lost at musical chairs, Valerie flops back onto the couch, nearly spread-eagle as she melts into the cushions. Frank Sinatra croons from an honest-to-god record player, another very ‘Patsy’ item in the house. She’s always liked vintage and retro, their Pats. They all like to tease her that she might like it better in 1960, if it weren’t for the homophobia of the time.

The woman in question is perched delicately on the arm of the sofa next to Valerie, her hand hovering above the needle of the record player, ready to lift it and cause chaos on a whim.

Patsy looks down at Valerie with a curious expression. “Eggnog?”

Val takes the offered cup with a half-hearted grin. “Cheers.”

After lifting the needle, Patsy ignores all the shouting to return her attention to Valerie. “You don’t seem like you’re having much fun tonight.” She glances briefly back at their friends. “You’re out, Babs, sorry!”

“Maybe it’s just because Delia stole my chair,” Val snarks.

“Or maybe it’s because there’s a certain blondie who didn’t join us tonight?” Patsy raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing.

“She’s gotta rest up,” Val mutters, sinking down even lower into the couch. “She’s got a flight home tomorrow. Looks like there might even be a bus running to take her.”

“And?” Patsy angles herself more toward Valerie, though one hand stays on the needle. “Have you gotten her number? Her instagram? Anything? Surely you’ll keep in touch.”

“Nah.”

There’s a few moments where the only sound is christmas music. Patsy lifts the needle without taking her eyes off Valerie. “‘Nah’? What’s that supposed to mean? Valerie, I saw the way you were looking at each other!”

“I’ve only known her for a week,” Valerie scoffs. “She’s living her fancy life far away from here. She’s going to have a million chances to do better than me.”

The game is over when Delia steals the last seat from Cyril. Patsy lets the record keep playing and squints at Valerie. “I can’t tell if you’re like this because you didn’t say anything to her… or because you did.”

Valerie makes a neutral noise that sounds vaguely like a car engine too cold to start. Before Patsy can continue trying to pry answers from her, Lucille arrives, sitting next to Val on the couch with a mug of cocoa in her hands. “Are we talking about Trixie?”

“Yes, but I don’t know why,” Valerie grouches.

“We’re talking about her because you’ve got such a thick skull you’re not likely to act on anything you’re feeling until that plane has left, and all you can do is regret.”

“You’re one to talk, cariad,” Delia says, joining the growing conversation.

“Yes, yes, and if it had been me having to ask you to not get on a flight to Nepal, neither of us would have rings on our fingers right now,” Patsy agrees. “But look how well it’s worked for us! Valerie, have you or haven’t you talked to Trixie?”

“I…” Valerie sighs, knowing she’s been beat. “Kind of. We’ve kind of talked.”

Lucille looks at her curiously. “Is that what you were upset about the other morning?”

“Kind of isn’t a real answer,” Patsy says impatiently.

“I-- I dunno, she made some comment and I jumped to conclusions,” Valerie says helplessly. “I think where we left it is that we don’t know each other well enough. We lead vastly different lives and even taking time to see if there was a real connection would require too much effort.”

“Love is worth the effort, though,” Delia says, a dreamy smile on her face as she turns to look at Patsy.

Patsy kisses her fiancee’s temple. “Not the time, Deels.”

“It can’t be love,” Valerie sighs, finally sitting up. “Not yet, at least. And we don’t really have the time to find out if it is.” She musters a smile for her friends. “C’mon, chicks. Don’t let me ruin Christmas.”

“Whatever you say, Scrooge,” Lucille teases.

The reverberating laughter lifts Valerie’s heart once again. It’s good to be around friends.

\---

Trixie tosses and turns all night, and it’s not because of the sofa bed.

The four days since she’d told Valerie she was leaving have been heavy and miserable. Unable to bear the tension she herself had created-- foolish, dramatic, weak-- Trixie has essentially given her host the cold shoulder. Surely Valerie will be glad to be rid of her tomorrow morning…

Er, in approximately four hours.

Somehow, though, it doesn’t feel like Valerie wants her gone.

Although there’s been a damper on any unspoken things between them, Trixie still feels that spark when they touch, still senses the yearning when their eyes meet. She hates the thought that her coldness is hurting Valerie, making her think it was all one-sided when that couldn’t be farther from the truth… and her anger at herself is making her shut down more.

What if there could have been something? If even one part of this had been easier, if Trixie lived closer, had less _history,_ had an easier job to take vacation from…

She feels tears prick at her eyes as she finally begins to imagine a relationship with Valerie, too worn out from days of self-restraint to deny herself any further.

Kissing under mistletoe. Would Valerie’s lips be soft or chapped? Trixie doesn’t think she would care much either way if she got to kiss her.

Lazy days at the pub… being a part of Valerie’s life, truly… 

Val would show her other parts of Poplar on their dates. Fish and chips and walks through the city… Trixie thinks she would almost prefer a close-knit community like this to the rushing crush of her current hometown.

Evenings on the couch watching movies. With the couch actually put together, because Trixie would share a bed with Valerie, without Lucille this time. Which means they would wake in each other’s arms every morning, with nothing and noone to put a stop to it.

Oddly enough, the fantasy she keeps coming back to is in the not-so-distant future.

Something as simple as a Christmas morning where she doesn’t work, doesn’t have anywhere to be, would be a blessing. To spend a morning like that with a woman she thinks she could love, well…

Her tears turn to a slow smile as she thinks about it. Maybe Valerie would make another breakfast hash. Maybe she could bake scones or croissants. And there would be festive music playing, a fire in the woodstove…

That’s when it hits her.

She’s spent her whole life working for more, working to reach the top, to be the best… and all she’s ever wanted was something as plain and simple as love. The kind of love where the other person is all you need.

Tears cloud Trixie’s vision again, but before she gives in, she reaches for her phone and opens up her airport app.

She doesn’t even hesitate before clicking the ‘cancel flight’ button.

\---

Valerie wakes up to the smell of something delicious baking in her oven. Honestly, at that point she forgets it’s Christmas, she’s just drawn to the scent of food.

When she sees Trixie crouched in front of the oven, squinting through the greasy window, she remembers the entire situation.

“Right,” she announces, “I’m going back to bed.”

“Why?” Trixie stands up, wearing the brightest smile Valerie has seen on her all week. “I’m almost done with these; they’ll be heavenly when they come out of the oven.”

“Because I’m dreaming,” Valerie answers bluntly. “You told me you would be leaving before I got up. And anyway, you’ve been icing me out all week, no way you’re making me breakfast on Christmas morning.”

“Maybe I’ve had a change of heart,” Trixie counters, pulling the tray from the oven.

Valerie groans and pinches herself halfheartedly. She wants to wake up, a dream like this just isn’t fair…

“You’re not dreaming, Valerie,” Trixie says softly. Her smile has shifted to one of almost adoration. “I made cinnamon buns. Merry Christmas.”

Valerie blinks slowly. “You’re still here. You’re making breakfast.”

“Cinnamon buns are hardly a well-rounded meal,” Trixie teases.

“Trix--” Valerie runs a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. “What are you still doing here!?” 

“I took a vacation,” Trixie answers patiently. She leaves the buns to cool and takes a few steps toward Valerie; they meet in the doorway. “I decided… if you don’t hate me… that I could give us a chance.”

“Bloody hell,” Valerie whispers. “This is real.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” Trixie says, taking her hands. Her eyes shine with tears. “Do you… what you said that morning… do you still feel that way?”

“Of course.” Valerie cups Trixie’s face in her hands, emotion rising in a bubble in her chest. She smiles slowly, her eyes darting around the flat, looking at the holiday decorations. “Hey, Trix,” she says softly.

“Yes?” Trixie’s voice is shaky but her smile is bright.

Valerie leans in. “Mistletoe.”

And then she leans in, presses her lips to Trixie’s and really, truly kisses her. They’re both holding each other, warm in the passionate embrace.

Valerie smiles against Trixie’s lips.

Merry Christmas indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Thank you so much for reading and I wish everyone who celebrates a very Merry Christmas. Now go and watch the new xmas special!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you think? Leave a comment or kudos, or find me on tumblr at valdyers!


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